


The devil's own luck

by nightmarethoughts



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, Youtubers, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Crime AU, Crime Families, F/M, Gang AU, Gangs, Gen, Immigration, M/M, New York City, Organized Crime, Set in the 1920's, Slow Burn, curse worker au, curseworking, some racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 17:44:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmarethoughts/pseuds/nightmarethoughts
Summary: Sean McLoughlin is the son of the most powerful Irish curseworker family, forced to go to America to escape the law. Mark is a just trying to survive day by day in one of New York's most powerful gangs. And as luck would have it their paths are hopelessly entwined."We all know who you are and what you can do,""Don't act like you know anything about me, cause you dont,"





	The devil's own luck

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based upon the idea from Holly Blacks "White Cat" It's a garbage book so don't read it but the concept is interesting. If you are confused look up the wiki article for it and read the summary to understand how the universe works, although i will be explaining more throughout the story.

The sharp, salty air flew up from the sea, whistling past his ears and whipping his hair around wildly. It sailed down his throat, coling in his lungs and burning the back of his throat, but not somehow not unpleasantly. The wind flew by, almost as if it was racing the sea as the ship sailed across the dark, cold depths. Just on the horizon he could see the skyline of the grandiose New York City, illuminated behind by the glow of the setting sun. He leaned forward at the very bow of the ship, watching as the pointed front of the boat sliced through the water like a knife. He was leaning so far forward the railing was digging into his abdomen and he was nearly bent all the way over the railing itself. The position was precariously close to falling head first into the water, but Seȧn didn’t mind. He’d always been one to test his luck. Of course, he wasn’t the only one crowded near the front of the ship, many other hopefuls were eagerly watching New York get closer and closer, steadily but surely. They, among himself, were all hoping that somehow life would be better here. He sat there, just watching the boat move and the sea dance by, until the wind numbed his nose and made his eyes water too much to see anything at all.  
Seȧn turned around and leaned his back against the railing, glancing at the people around him. There were couples, eyes alight with hope and their arms around the only things they had, each other. There were families with small children, bright smiles lighting up their faces as the wind toyed with their hair and blew at their threadbare coats. There were the older children, faces stoic and eyes the strangest mixture of misery that had the faintest glimmer of hope. These ones were always alone. He watched as of these boys, his skin pale, paler than Seȧn’s own, and his hair the color of the night, swept off to the left in an attempt to keep it out of his eyes. The boy was watching longingly at a family that stood by the railing, the young mother holding a sleeping infant while the father had a young child up on his shoulders. The boy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, the lines that folded it into quarters were so worn they were nearly falling apart. He only glanced at it for a moment, almost as if that was all he allowed himself to look at it, and tucked it away into his pocket. The boy quickly turned away from the family and started walking back towards the middle of the ship, only to freeze in his tracks. Seȧn craned his neck, curious to see what had made the boy stop so suddenly.  
The boy was looking at another boy of the same age, surely no more than sixteen or seventeen, who was leaning slumped against the railing. The other boy, whose curly brown hair was pushed haphazardly above his face, looked as though he came from one of the families who had been hit by the famine. His frame was gaunt and his cheeks were hollow, and even from there Seȧn could see his labored breathing of the salty ocean air. The black haired boy was stood just staring at the other boy, swaying back and forth on his feet as if deliberating. Finally, he takes a hesitant step forward, dropping to one knee in front of the curly haired boy. Seȧn was too far away to hear what the dark haired boy said, but the other boy stirred and opened his eyes. The dark haired boy reached into his pocket and withdrew a cloth wrapped object. He slowly unfolded the cloth to reveal what was surely his last piece of soda bread, and offered it to the boy. The curly haired boy’s eyes lit up at the bread, with a spark that hadn’t been there before. The dark haired boy sat cross-legged across from the boy. The curly haired boy broke half the bread off and shyly offered it to the other boy. Seȧn watched as the boys just sat and talked sharing the bread. A small smile tugged at his lips, that was truly a lovely thing to see, both these boys with no one else sharing the only things they had with each other.  
Seȧn tugged his gloves against his hands, and strode away from the railing of the ship and over to the boys. He put his hand on the head of the dark haired boy, stretching his fingertip out though the tiny hole in his glove till it touched the boys hair, ruffling it in a friendly manner. He willed the fire deep inside him to ignite and it spread through him with a burning heat, tingling the very tips of his fingers.  
He let the familiar fiery hot sensation wash through him as he spoke, “ Hey there lads, we’re almost there. You ready to be in the land of opportunities?” What he has said didn’t really sound much like him, but he was trying to put the boys at ease, they clearly were tense and knew enough about strangers to know when to be wary.  
“I sure hope so sir,” the dark haired boy said politely but shakily, “I’m hoping to get a job here.”  
Jack nodded, “Me too lad, aren’t we all?” He reached over and ruffled the hair of the curly haired boy, ignoring how the boy flinched underneath his hand and willed the the fiery warmth to ignite in him again. The boy underneath his fingers who had been trembling just moments before suddenly stilled and almost leaned against Seȧn’s hand. He'd always wondered what it had felt like to be on the receiving end.  
“Best of luck to both of ya.” Seȧn said before walking away, leaving the boys in peace. He let himself smile a bit as he walked away, he truly was judge and jury. But hopefully he helped out both of them, even if it was just a little. He headed inside to the main body of the boat, inspecting his gloves as he did. The leather was getting worn and thin, he was going to have to get some new ones soon. But the thought of throwing these gloves away made his heart ache just thinking about it. These gloves were such a part of him. They hadn't left his hands for the next six years, and he wanted to keep it that way. By now she could trace every crack and line in the gloves blindfolded. In fact not wearing his gloves almost made him feel naked and vulnerable. Seȧn scanned the people around him, noting that many of them had gloves that were threadbare and worn, almost to the point to where their fingers were out. It truly was a showing of their poverty. Seȧn didn't really consider himself to be significantly wealthy or better than them, but seeing all these people fleeing their, and his, homeland was so disconcerting to see, had Ireland really become that bad? He have his head a quick shake, no. He had chosen to leave it behind in favor of a new start and a new chance at life, and he was going to go all in. All these thoughts racing through his head, the boys, he gloves, home, it was too much. Seȧn needed a strong cup of whatever closest resembled coffee on this ship. So he set off into the cold, dank interior of the ship in search of yet another temporary. 

CLANG CLANG CLANG. Seȧn was snapped out of where he was dozing, chair tilted against the wall, legs crossed on a cold metal table and a nearly empty cup of coffee held haphazardly against his chest. His heart pounded at the sudden jolt back to alertness and legs pumping he sprinted over to a window to see what was going on. Immediately he was greeted by the sight of a dock filled to the absolute bursting point of people. The crowd was massive. The dock...they were here! He was here! He'd made it! Even the sight of the massive customs lines he would have to wait through couldn't dampen the smile spreading across his face. He really was here. Which meant that...shit! He needed to grab his luggage and get off the ship before he was the last one there. He began sprinting through the winding hallways, his footsteps thudding against the metal echoing loudly throughout the ship. Seȧn tried avoiding all the people heading the opposite way as him, occasionally bumping into some and only being able to call back an apology without stopping. Finally he came up to his door, trying to skid to a stop and nearly falling over in the process. He ran inside to his room, throwing the few possessions he had gotten out into the suitcase at random. Glancing toward the doorway, he saw the crowd of people shuffling by had lessened and his heart rate quickened. He had to get off. Seȧn seized his messenger bag from where it had been lying on a chair and threw it over his shoulder, grabbing his suitcase and jamming his hat onto his head as he ran out the door. Now he was doing a strange sort of hop and run, trying the best he could to move through the passageway quickly without hitting anyone.  
Finally he emerged into the deck of the ship, eyes involuntarily squinting in the sudden change in brightness, even though the sky was rather overcast. He slipped into the line of people walking slowly down a gangplank. The line was unbearably slow but there was no way he could bypass it. So he sat, shuffling his way forward through the crowed like everyone else, moving a couple of feet a minute if he was lucky. He had been staring at the sky for so long he'd nearly memorized the bumps and turns of the dull grey clouds above him, at least that wasn't too different from Ireland. The dock reeked of salt and fish, overpowering to the point where his eyes began to water. One time he swore he saw a quick glimpse of a diamond through the crowd, but it couldn't be. He must be seeing things. Finally, finally, Seȧn pushed his way out of the crowd and up to a customs desk. They immediately seized his suitcase, searching it top to bottom while the other officer inspected his papers. He had paid good money for those papers, the best of the best in fact, but he still couldn’t keep the apprehension and worry from building up inside of him. The fear twisted and coiled around inside of him in sickening ways, but of course none of that showed. He was a professional after all. The officer, who looked beyond exhausted, looked him up and down before handing the papers back.  
“Any fruit or animals to declare?” the officer sighed.  
“No sir,” Seȧn responded.  
“Any weapons of any kind?”  
“No sir.”  
“Are you a curse worker? All curse workers have to be registered with the government immediately upon entering the country.Have you been checked yet?" Seán's blood turned to ice at that simple phrase.  
"I-" he started before the man cut him off.  
"It's not on your records so I'm going to have to ask you to head to that tent over there. The white one, you see? Don't worry it'll be quick." Seán couldn't make himself speak, so he only managed a quick nod, limbs moving in stiff almost robotic movements towards the tent. He pushed open the door, revealing a man hunched over a stool, looking defeated. His eyes were haunted and his face gaunt, week old stubble pockmarking his face. The other man in the corner, clad in a military uniform, gestured him forward.  
"Just step forward, he will determine if you are a curse worker or not." The man on the stool barely lifted his head to look at Seán, raising his handcuffed hands. He placed his ungloved hands on Sean's arm, ignoring how Sean flinched involuntarily at the touch. The man suddenly raised his eyebrows and looked up, and Sean immediately could tell he knew. He quickly raised his free finger up to his mouth, trying to tell the man to be quiet. The man gave his head a slow shake and quietly jangled his handcuffs. His lips moved, uttering something so quiet it was almost inaudible. Seán leaned down to hear what the man was saying.  
"Look son I'm sorry, but they got me. Every worker I find they take time off of my sentence. In this city it's every man for himself." Seán could understand the sentiment, but he'd hoped it wouldn't have come to this. He slowly turned over his gloved hand, displaying the club there in all its glory. The little color the man had in his face drained out, his eyes widening.  
"I-I'm sorry. Please understand I just...you know I-" the man stammered.  
Seán leaned in close whispering, "just let me go. That's all I ask." The man nodded so quickly and whipped around so fast he almost fell off the stool.  
"he's clear. He's normal." The soldier only gave a bored nod and gestured for Seán to leave. He let out a heavy sigh once he passed the canvas opening and merged back into the crowd, suitcase he'd tightly in hand. Soon enough he passed through the gates and was officially in New York City. It felt strangely freeing, that one simply action. Now he was in America, the home of the free and land of opportunities. A flash of dark hair in his peripheral vision drew his gaze, although he wasn't entirely sure why. The dark haired boy from the ship was there, along with the curly haired boy. What were the chances? A man walked out of a bookshop towards them. Seán was much too far away to hear what they were saying but it seemed like a friendly enough conversation, and then a large smile grew on the dark haired boys face and he began to nod eagerly. The two boys followed after the man, and into the bookshop, where Seán suddenly noticed a sign that said "hiring now" only to see the owner of the shop take it down.  
He smiled widely, it worked. The boys had gotten a job, and a good one at that. What luck. And so without a job or a place to stay, Seán strode away from the docks, away from Ireland, and into America as Jack, throwing his luck to the wind.  
***  
The blonde haired man stood at the street corner, watching the retreating back of the brown haired Irishman. He looked only a moment longer before turning to the dark haired man next to him. The blonde man adjusted his gloves for a moment, before speaking. "That's definitely him. Did you see his gloves? I want him. I want you to go and get him. This is one prize I will not lose."

**Author's Note:**

> I just updated by other septiplier story, so be sure to check it out! comments and kudos are always appreciated. Thanks!


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